The Black Prince of Summerhall
by DeathBladeVI
Summary: Edward, the second son of Robert Baratheon and Cersei Lannister, is known as the Black Prince. War is coming and soon Edward's loyalties and ties will be tested, as enemies plan, fight, and wait.
1. EDWARD I

" _ **Edward the Black Prince is one of the most popular figures in Westerosi history. The second son of Robert I, he was an accomplished soldier, able administrator, and viewed as one of the finest military commanders of the time, alongside his father, his uncle Lord Stannis, Lord Randyll Tarly, Ser Brynden Tully and King Robb Stark."**_

 **Excerpt from** _ **I Serve: The Curious Case of Edward Baratheon**_

 **THE BLACK PRINCE**

Summerhall was a place of tragedy, Edward knew. It was here where Aegon the Unlikely had died, trying to fulfill the dreams of Targaryens lost past, to restore the dragons that had once ruled the skies, breathing fire and spreading death. It was here that Prince Rhaegar had been at his finest and saddest, singing songs of sadness and despair on his harp while watching the clouds.

But he was the Prince of Summerhall, the second son of Robert Baratheon. He had been here for three years, rebuilding the summer castle back to its original glory. Some said that the castle was magical, just like Dragonstone, something that both Edward and his uncle Stannis dismissed out of hand.

 _There's nothing magical about strong backs,_ Uncle Stannis had said to him when he had asked him about the magic of Dragonstone. He missed his humorless bore of an uncle though and wished that he was back on Dragonstone. But he was a man of five and ten and had to take his seat.

His black horse, named Storm because he was as unimaginative with names like his father, trodded along the dirt path towards the castle. His standard bearer and sworn shield, Ser Rolland Storm, carried his banner next to him, while three dozen Baratheon and Lannister guardsmen rode in a column behind them.

His banner was a black crowned stag on a golden field, much like his uncle Renly's who was the head of House Baratheon of Storm's End, but there was a golden lion that was underneath the stag on a red field. Unlike his father's banner, the stag was on top of the lion, to signify his Baratheon roots. His mother did not like it, but what can you do about it?

The wind was picking up, sweeping in from the sea. Summerhall was visible now, the ruined castle not being so ruined anymore despite it having the same reputation as Harrenhal. _Here my father defeated three armies in a single day and made those he had beaten drink to their own fallen banners._

"We'll be at Summerhall within the hour, my prince," Ser Rolland informed him and Edward finally felt some relief. It had been a hard ride from the Tor to Summerhall, having to go through the Boneway and Wyl. The Dornishmen had no love for him nor his family and he half expected that he would be rotting in a carrion cage like Aemon the Dragonknight. The Wyls had been particularly threatening, but nothing would have stopped from visiting his betrothed in the Tor.

"Good. Those damn Dornishmen scare me if you don't mind me saying so," he said, earning a chuckle from the Bastard of Nightsong. "Still, when I visited Myria at the Tor, I couldn't help but recite the Dornishman's Wife…"

Ser Rolland gave another chuckle, his voice deep. "You're lucky that the Dornish don't view virginity the same as the rest of the Seven Kingdoms. I've heard that the Princess Arianne Martell lost her virtue to a bastard."

"Do you mean to take my virtue?" Edward mockingly asked. "As a knight, you should be ashamed ser! You would dishonor me?"

The surrounding men gave a howl of laughter at Edward's joke. Only Ser Richard Horpe didn't laugh, the pockmarked and scarred warrior looking grim as usual. _Just like Uncle Stannis. No wonder he made this man the captain of my household guard. The slayer._

Summerhall looked more like a palace than a castle and it had been built like it in order to be the summer residence of the Targaryen kings and their families, meant to be a place of relaxation and to forget the stress of ruling.

But now...now it was beginning to be the castle Edward wanted it to be. Summerhall had been built on a hill in order to survey all of its domain, the main keep blackened from the fires near forty years ago. A strong stone wall circled the main keep, emulating the fortifications of Storm's End, where the banners of House Baratheon floated upon. Men in Lannister lion crested half-helms, ringmail over leather, gauntlets, and greaves, with iron tipped spears in their hands, stood together with Baratheon men who wore studded jacks and half-helms.

Altogether, two hundred men guarded Summerhall and its surrounding lands. Summerhall sat on the border of the Reach, east of Ashford, and north of Blackhaven. His father had named him Prince of Summerhall when he had turned two and ten in order to get him away from the capital after an incident with his brother. _He deserved it. He deserved it,_ he repeated to himself when he thought of it.

"Who approaches?" yelled one of the sentries. His men were on constant alert, a result of the constant drilling from Ser Cortnay Penrose. The man was a seasoned commander who had practically ran Storm's End when Uncle Renly was growing up, so when it was time for Edward to rule Summerhall, he had requested Ser Penrose become his castellan. The balding man had balked at first, but Uncle Renly had given his approval.

"The Prince of Summerhall and Lord of the Marches!" Ser Rolland roared back. Lord of the Marches was a title given to Edward when he had arrived in Summerhall, even though he had no formal control over the marcher lords. However, the marcher lords did like him, as he visited them often in order to get a better understanding of the lands that his uncle ruled over.

 _They're the most martial of the storm lords,_ Uncle Stannis had told him when had been growing up on Dragonstone. _Renly never visits them because he likes to play at being lord instead of being lord, but when war has historically come, they are the often the first line of defense against the Reach and the Dornish._

"How do we know you aren't lying?" one of the sentries demanded and for a second Edward was about to yell at them when he spotted who had said it. It was his bastard half-brother, Edric, a bold and brash boy who had the prominent Florent ears. The twelve-year-old lad was a carbon copy of his older brother, with the characteristic cheekbones, jaw, hair, and eyes of their house. "I might be the Prince of Summerhall for all we know!"

"Little brother, open the damn gate or I'll storm this place!" Edward shouted up to him, earning a round of laughter from his men. "This was a summer palace, not a castle, and that's not going to change despite what I've been doing for the past three years."

Edric Storm roared with laughter, reminding Edward of their father, and the portcullis lifted open. Greeting them was Ser Cortnay Penrose and a gaggle of Baratheon men with woolen surcoats wearing his personal sigil. Edric was there as well, grinning like a madman.

The two approached each other. Edric had gotten taller and was built more solidly. _He's getting stronger every day,_ Edward realized. _He looks just like father._

"You're getting fat," Edward said to his bastard brother. "What are you feeding him, Ser Penrose?"

Ser Penrose, who many would not consider a jovial man, cracked a small grin before dashing it away. "Nothing more than what you ate when you were his age, my prince."

Edric gave a defiant gaze. "You're fat!"

Edward looked down and poked at Edric's stomach. It was a bit flabby, but he was getting better fit. "You've got a bit of flab there, brother. Maybe you should start running around the training yard in armor again."

Edric's eyes widened in horror. Those had not been pleasant days for the man. Ser Penrose raised a red eyebrow. "Maybe we should, my prince. He has been getting a bit lazy in these past few months that you've been away."

"You're torturing the poor boy," came another voice. It came behind them, as smooth as Myrish silk, as beautiful as the finest rose in Highgarden. Behind him, riding a Dornish sand steed with the colors of her house, was his betrothed, Myria. _Of course._ She was beautiful, though the stormlanders among them did not trust any Dornish, especially a woman. Six men accompanied her, including her sworn shield, her half-brother Ser Alleras Sand, who was a fierce swordsman.

The match had been made after Prince Doran had rejected an offer of marriage between his daughter, Princess Arianne, and Edward. Truth be told, Edward didn't mind. Myria Jordayne was slender, beautiful, and the heir to one of the more powerful houses in Dorne. The Tor controlled the vital trade route between Yronwood and Sunspear, allowing their coffers to be filled.

"My love!" he greeted excitedly, swinging off his horse. He had once disparaged at marrying a Dornish woman, especially considering that most Dornish would never forgive his family for allowing the murder of Princess Elia Martell and her children, but Myria had taken a liking to him for whatever reason. "I was not expecting you for another day."

"We Dornish don't need to stop for rest like you, my betrothed," Myria sang back, making Edward redden. She urged her mount forward before leaning down to whisper in his ear. "Though I know that you don't need a lot of rest either."

Now that...that had been a night. Myria was six and ten, black hair spilling over the riding clothes that she wore, as gorgeous in breeches and a tunic as she was in a dress. She knew how to press his buttons. _My grandfather ruled Westeros for twenty years but my grandmother ruled him if the rumors are true._

His cock hardened. _Damn you, you fucking traitor._ Myria noticed as he began to help her from her steed and she discreetly squeezed him in between his breeches. His breath quickened as he brought his lips to her own ear.

"Keep doing that and you'll be screaming my name the entire night," he threatened her and she giggled. _Damn that giggle._

"Is that a threat, my beloved?" she sultry asked. He reminded himself that they were being watched and he saw Ser Alleras glower at him. _Nobody glowers like a Dornishman._

"If you two don't mind, I have a feast to plan for my nephew," an annoyed Lannister sighed. "As much as I would love to see you two make each other blush with whatever dirty words you are saying, please remember you are barely inside the gates and I do not want to write to Lord Jordayne or King Robert."

The two flushed as a small man approached them. Tyrion Lannister was a dwarf, mockingly called the Imp by half the realm, but he was the smartest man Edward knew. When he had been sent to Summerhall, Edward had requested that his uncle be sent with him to serve as his mentor and steward. While Ser Cortnay Penrose ran the castle, it was Tyrion who had been overseeing the construction efforts, teaching Edward how to rule, and giving him a general education.

 _Grandfather may not have a use for him, but he is my uncle and my blood._ He only wished that Myrcella and Tommen could join them, but his mother had forbidden it.

But at least he had Summerhall. He had his uncle Tyrion. He had his future bride. And he had his bastard brother. _My children will be Dornish and stormlanders, inherit Summerhall, and rule this land._ As his uncle continued to admonish him about acting courteously in his own castle (a hypocrite considering that Tyrion pretty much was the driving force behind the local brothels in his lands), he felt content.

A few miles away, however, a raven was coming from King's Landing. _Dark wings, dark words,_ the singers sang.

Edward didn't know it, but Lord Jon Arryn, Hand of the King for the past seventeen years, was dead.

* * *

 **AN: Hey everyone! It's been quite awhile since I've written anything and _Game of Thrones_ has been on my mind since the finale. I've been reading a lot of 'Robert Baratheon and Cersei Lannister have one true-born son' and I've decided to add to that trope. But I've decided to change it up a bit, as every single one I've read has them falling in love with the Stark women, whether it is Sansa or Arya, or accompanying them to Winterfell. I've wanted to write something where he is _not_ there but instead will be showing up in later stages. **

**Also, this second son is named and loosely based after Edward the Black Prince, the eldest son of King Edward III of England. Edward the Black Prince was the commander of the vanguard at the Battle of Crecy and won the Battle of Poitiers. Some of the battles will be heavily based on these two historical battles of the Hundred Years War.**

 **Please tell me what you think! I love constructive criticism, feedback, and everything else in between. Send me flames, however, and I will give you to the flames.**


	2. TYRION I

**_"I wonder why my nephew was known as the Black Prince. It's not as if he was the only child of Robert Baratheon to have black hair. That can't be it."_**

 ** _-Selected Quote from: Tyrion Lannister: The Wit and Wisdowm of the Imp_**

 **THE LITTLE LANNISTER**

Tyrion Lannister enjoyed many things. Women, wine, books, and his nephew's company. His rooms were in the same part of the castle as Edward's and when his black-haired nephew had returned, Tyrion had planned to retire to his rooms in order to rest before the feast he had planned.

Only to walk past his rooms quite awkwardly because Edward had immediately decided to relieve some of the stress from the long trip from the Tor. _Did Lord Jordayne have this problem when Edward visited?_ Usually he did not have a problem with hearing ' _more'_ because he was the one enjoying the words, but being on the opposite side of a door, however briefly, listening to it made...well awkward.

He made a brief stop in the gardens Edward had commissioned since his betrothed had a similar one back in the Tor and his nephew was nothing if not gallant. Blue winter roses were growing in a greenhouse and why Myria Jordayne liked these flowers, Tyrion did not know, but it made her and Edward happy.

He decided to visit the maester and see if any ravens had come in. Maester William was from the North, Barrowton if Tyrion remembered correctly, and had been the maester of Summerhall for two years. He had doubts about the man's loyalty -he was doubtful of everyone's loyalty except for Edward's- but the man had proven to be a competent maester.

His squire, Podrick Payne, was in the training yard with Edric Storm being watched by Ser Andrew Estermont, the master of arms. The leader of the Lannister guardsmen, a man by the name of Jyck, was watching as well, rooting for Payne. The two were the same age and often trained together.

Podrick was a good and solid defensive fighter. He always watched his corners, made sure he never overextended himself, and always, _always,_ fought behind his shield. Edric, on the other hand, preferred a spiked mace.

Edric was a whirlwind, his mace trying to find openings in Podrick's defenses, but Podrick was calm, patient, and refused to be baited by Edric's movements. The mace went left, right, up, and down, but it was always met by a solid wall of iron and wood, thought Podrick would slightly vibrate everytime the mace would impact. Podrick kept himself safe behind his shield, refusing to lash out except to parry with his training sword.

"Good! Keep it up, the both of you!" Ser Andrew said, encouraging the two. Edric continued to attack while Podrick continued to defend. But were using energy, though Tyrion's untrained eye thought Edric was tiring a bit faster than Podrick. However, Podrick lost when he decided to take up the offensive himself, opening up his flank. Edric's mace was like lightning and he landed several glancing blows on Podrick's body and Ser Andrew stopped the fight.

"A good bout," Tyrion praised. Podrick heated up and Edric took a bow. "Though I must ask the man who is actually taller than a sword. What do you think Ser Andrew?"

"Aye, a good bout. Podrick, you have to get better at countering. Can't stay behind that shield all day, but it was a good tactic. Edric, you have to stop being on the offensive so much," Ser Andrew observed, his years of training and battle coming out. Tyrion nodded with approval. He would always defer to better men when it came to this type of things. _A lesson I hope I've taught Edward._ "You might be Robert Baratheon's son, but even the king learned the lesson of having a good defense."

"My father killed Rhaegar on the Trident with his war hammer! Why would he need to learn to be on the defensive?" Edric protested and Ser Andrew's face darkened. _He fought at the Trident with Robert. He fought at Great Wyk with Stannis._ He was a seasoned killer, just like most of the men under Edward's banner. It was not hard to forget that, with the amount of battle scars some of the men here had.

"Your father always said that there is a better fighter out there. I fought with your father on the Trident. I saw him duel Rhaegar on the Trident. He did slay him, that's true, but there was a moment when he faltered on the offensive and was forced on the defensive by the Crown Prince," Ser Andrew recounted. The two boys listened with fascination. "The Crown Prince forced King Robert to the banks of the Ruby Ford, his sword a blur. The king knew how to defend himself and blocked it with his shield and when his shield was thrown into the water, he defended with his hammer."

"What...what-what else happened, my lord?" Podrick asked hesitantly. The boy had a stuttering problem since he had been old enough to talk, Tyrion had been told, and he wondered how he could fix it. _Maybe there is no way to fix it._

"Rhaegar overextended himself. King Robert drove him back into the river with the fury of a thousand suns and then struck Rhaegar straight in the chest, rattling his beautiful black armor and making the rubies fall from his chest," Ser Andrew said with a dark smile. "King Robert was an excellent warrior, though he left the commanding part to Lord Arryn or Lord Stark for that battle. All he wanted to was to get vengeance for Lord Rickard Stark and his kidnapped Lady day you might have a lady love that needs rescuing, Edric. Need to learn how to defend yourself a bit better if you hope to have a chance."

Edric's pride was wounded a bit, Tyrion could tell, but it was a good lesson. His mind drifted to Edward, who had been trained by Ser Andrew Estermont as well. His nephew was a solid swordsman, both able to defend and attack, but he wasn't the Laughing Storm reborn like his father. Edric was more like Robert in that regard.

No, Edward reminded Tyrion of Stannis Baratheon when it came to fighting. Stannis was a competent fighter, having been trained by the same knight who had forged Robert, but he was no match for Robert or Jaime when it came to battle. But he knew to how to _command._ Edward had shown that same iron will Stannis had and Tyrion suspected it was an influence from his humorless, drab, and absolute _bore_ of an uncle.

 _Stannis is a military commander though. He held Storm's End for an entire year, feasting on boot leather and rats while Lord Mace Tyrell sat on his arse and feasted at the banquet table. He destroyed the Iron Fleet and took Great Wyk during the Greyjoy Rebellion._ At least Edward knew how to jape and smile. If Tyrion had to deal with the younger version of Stannis, he would rather go to the Wall.

As Ser Andrew continued to critique and teach the two boys, Tyrion decided it was time to focus on his original goal of heading to the maester. He bid his goodbyes and saw Jyck transferring some coppers to a Baratheon archer. _Should have bet on Edric. I would have._

Maester William slouched over, had a stooped shoulder, and always smelled of sour milk. Why maesters always smelled of something sour or foul, he didn't have an idea. The maester was busy reading a book, which one Tyrion could not tell, when Tyrion entered. The maester immediately got up, but Tyrion beckoned for him to sit.

"You don't have to stand for me, I quite like talking to someone at my height," Tyrion japed and William smiled, several teeth missing. "Has there been any news?"

"Two ravens came within the last few hours, my lord. One is from King's Landing and the other is from Casterly Rock," Maester William informed him, handing him two scrolls. Sure enough, one of them had the waxed seal of the crowned stag and lion of House Baratheon of King's Landing while the other was the roaring lion of House Lannister. _No doubt from my father._ "I also received the books you requested from Oldtown. _Watchers on the Wall,_ a completed version of Septon Barth's _Unnatural History,_ and half of the scrolls that make up _The Fires of the Freehold._ I had to call in every single favor I had in order to get my hands on these books. Use them well, my lord."

"Thank you Maester William and I will. No doubt when the whores of Summerhall's villages hear my stunning recount of the history of Valyria, they will offer themselves to me freely," Tyrion said and the maester frowned. "Who are the letters for?"

"The raven from Casterly Rock is for Edward and the raven from King's Landing is for you."

Now that surprised him. His father, though he had no love for Tyrion, would write to him with instructions on how to educate Edward. Lord Tywin schemed to have Edward named his heir, even when the Black Prince had been named Prince of Summerhall and sent to the stormlands after the final incident between him and Joffrey. He knew his father wanted the black haired youth to be the Lord of Casterly Rock one day, even if he did have Baratheon blood flowing through his veins.

"Hand me the letter from King's Landing," and the maester did as he was told. Breaking the seal, he read the letter. It was from King Robert himself, though the words had been written by Grand Maester Pycelle most likely.

"What does it say, my lord?" Maester William asked.

"Lord Arryn is dead. The king is heading to Winterfell in order to ask Lord Eddard Stark to be Hand of the King and he's bringing the entire royal court with the exception of Petyr Baelish and his brother Renly," Tyrion read. "He also sends his good wishes to Edward and Edric and that Edric's three and ten nameday present will arrive within the next fortnight."

And then what he read shocked him the most. He had to reread it again, just to be sure. _He wants me to do what?_ King Robert Baratheon had never been the most level-headed man there, often drinking and whoring (two activities that Tyrion enjoyed very much) but he always, _always_ left the ruling and major decisions to Jon Arryn. _Well he's dead now._

"He's sending me to the Wall in order to get a better accounting of the Night's Watch. _Why_ he is, I don't understand," Tyrion said. _Is this my sister's machinations?_ "He's sending my uncle Kevan to replace me as Edward's mentor."

 _This is my father's work, I'm sure of it._ He knew that his uncle was a good man, much more dangerous than most people liked to realize. His son, Lancel, was the squire of the king and he had been one of the most trusted captains of Tyrion's father Tywin. He had been at court for years, having replaced Tyrion as Tywin's representative at court after Tyrion went to Summerhall.

"That is...troubling news, my lord. Ser Kevan is a true man -one of my fellow maesters that I trained with at the Citadel wrote to me before I left for Summerhall that he is loyal and dutiful- but if the king is sending you to the Wall, it means that the Night's Watch is in disrepair and much worse state than previously thought," the maester said with some panic. _He's from the North. Of course he has an opinion about the Night's Watch._ "I've written to the maester of Eastwatch, Harmune before. The Night's Watch has fewer than a thousand men, most of them criminals. The last time Harmune wrote to me was three years ago...the wildlings have been gaining strength."

 _That would be a problem._ Despite there being a massive wall seven hundred feet high and three hundred miles long separating the Seven Kingdoms from the wildlings, wildling raids _have_ been picking up in the last couple of years. Normally the lords of the North would deal with it, but there had been some requests that King Robert had heard when Tyrion was last at court, though nothing ever came out of it. _I still wonder why he has decided to send me though._ Once more, his father flashed into his mind.

"Well, I will be joining the royal party in Winterfell, it seems. I wonder how the northern whores are compared to the southern ones. I haven't been to the North before."

"They're much hardier," Maester William commented before shutting his mouth. Tyrion grinned and took the letter from Casterly Rock to give it to Edward and inform his nephew that Kevan Lannister would be replacing him. _I would write to him to bring his sons, Martyn and Willem._ They would do best if they stuck with their father and Edward needed more companions his age, Tyrion thought.

Edward was lonely here, despite his bastard brother. He needed people of his age, instead of the hardy knights he surrounded himself with. _He needs more people to laugh and jape with besides a misshapen dwarf, a bastard brother, and stormlander knights._

He groaned. He would have to see his sister again. Along with Joffrey. At least Myrcella and Tommen were pleasant and his brother Jaime would be there as well. _And the whores._

He would have to test Maester William's comment about the northern whores being hardier. It was a theory he would enjoy experimenting with.

* * *

 **AN: I have to say, 400 views, 12 favorites, and 25 follows and 5 reviews are awesome, especially for a first chapter. I thank all of you for your support!**

 **spectre4hire: Thank you for your review! I enjoy _Our Blades are Sharp_ and really love your version of Domeric Bolton. My Edward will certainly have some of the traits Edward the Black Prince had. **

**JaceMaddox: Thank you and I completely agree with you on the Starkwankfest a lot of the fics have. I chose Myria Jordayne for exactly the reason you spelled out and she will be playing (hopefully) a significant part of the wars to come. I might do a rewrite, but it will only be if in order to fix chapters or put a better version of the story once this one is done. I'm trying to update as much as possible before school starts, but even then, with chapters only being about 2000 words, you might see an update at least once a week.**

 **celticcank: Thank you!**

 **Vulcran: Thank you!**

 **Feanor-Dutch: I've read _The Young Stag_ by kornerbrandon, which I enjoyed, and the one that really picks up on the 'tropes' you've laid out (somewhat) is _A Song of Manes and Antlers_ by Aldon Blackreyne. There are going to be consequences for Edward in this fic. He's going to be a solid battle commander, there's no doubt about that considering he was fostered by Stannis, but he's going to be a foil for Robb Stark. Robb Stark was a brilliant tactician but ultimately lost the war because of his poor political decisions. Edward...he's not going to be perfect at politics, or not even great, but he's going to better at it than Robb Stark. I will try to avoid the classic pitfalls and I've hoped I've already hinted at some of the consequences for Edward's actions earlier in his life. **

**Once more, thank you for all your support in this fic and please continue to review! I will continue to respond to each review!**


	3. EDWARD II

" ** _Tywin Lannister was one of the most feared and respected men in Westeros. The man who built his family up from near ruin, who crushed the Tarbecks and the Reynes, and ruled the realm for twenty years as King Aerys II Targaryen's Hand of the King. In the taverns and inns of the South, it was whispered that Tywin shat gold for how rich he was."_**

 ** _-_ Loading screen of ****Blackhaven Gaming's GOTY _Game of Thrones: V_**

 **EDWARD**

"You can't be serious uncle."

Edward could not believe his uncle would be leaving him. He had come to rely on Tyrion for many, many things and he coveted his advice like Tyrion coveted whores. But now his father was taking him away to be wasted in the North?

"I am serious, contrary to what I usually am. King Robert has ordered me to assess the Night's Watch. No doubt he has heard of my ability to assess whores in all the Seven Kingdoms," Tyrion jested, though his voice hid a hint of hurt. "My uncle Kevan will be replacing me as your mentor and to help finish your education. He's coming here within a fortnight and his children, Martyn and Willem Lannister will be joining him with a moon's turn if the raven I sent to Casterly Rock gets there as soon as possible."

 _Lannisters._ Edward didn't hate his mother's side of the family. He had a healthy respect for his grandfather, Tywin Lannister, who had ruled the kingdoms for twenty years for the Mad King. In his conversations with him before Edward had been packed off to Summerhall to rebuild and rule the surrounding lands, he knew that Tywin cared about two things the most; his family's name and the legacy he left behind.

He didn't have much experience dealing with the rest of his Lannister family, but he had met his great-uncle Kevan a few times and liked him well enough. _Still, I love uncle Tyrion. He's a dwarf who whores and drinks too much, but he's the one who has raised me these past few years._

"But why you? You haven't been at court for years."

Tyrion's face flashed with anger and a darkness, but it was soon gone. "I don't know and I won't know unless I meet your father. I will be heading to Winterfell but I don't know if I will catch up to the royal procession in time."

"You'll catch up," Edward commented. If his father was still more interested in wine and whores than ruling, they would visit every brothel and inn in the south before they reached Winterfell. His mother also traveled in a wheelhouse, so that would slow them down even more. "I'll give you twenty men to travel with."

"Twenty seems a bit excessive, don't you think?" Tyrion said, but Edward shook his head.

"You'll need them. The Lannisters aren't much loved in the Riverlands or the North, especially for what they did to King's Landing and the Targaryen children, even if they were allies of my father" Edward muttered. _My family secured my father's hold on the throne over the bodies of murdered children._ He wondered...if he had been Lord of Casterly Rock and Lord Paramount of the Westerlands, would he have done it? Ordered the deaths of Princess Elia Martell and her 'dragonspawn?' _Myria would kill me._ "No doubt great-uncle Kevan is marching down with enough men to replace the men I'm giving you."

"Well...thank you nephew," his uncle said with genuine affection in his voice. Edward shot him a grin. Tyrion then produced a rolled up paper bearing a red seal. _The seal of House Lannister. The seal of my grandfather._ "This came for you. From my father."

"No doubt he's writing to ensure that Summerhall is worth the investment from him."

The Lannisters had financed half of the construction costs for Summerhall, while crown financed the other half. This meant that the Lannisters financed all of it, considering that Edward's grandfather had lent _three million gold dragons_ to the crown and no doubt Lord Baelish was finding some convoluted way for his grandfather to pay for his seat.

"It's worth it. If there's one thing my father is obsessed with it, it's his legacy. You're part of that legacy as much as you like to put your Baratheon roots over your Lannister ones," Tyrion observed. Edward scowled, a habit he had gotten from his uncle Stannis, before frowning at the man. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize I was speaking to the younger version of Stannis Baratheon. I would rather take the black than deal with your uncle."

Edward was offended. "Uncle Stannis might be a dour man, humorless, and a man who nurses grievances like you nurse brothels," and Tyrion threw him a hurt look. "But he's taught me many things. The importance of _family, duty, and honor_."

He realized too late that those were the Tully words. "My nephew is a fish apparently," Tyrion snickered and Edward glowered, much how Myria's bastard brother had glowered at him. "And you weren't too worried about Lady Myria's honor a few hours ago."

Edward blushed deeply and rubbed the back of his head. When she had been saying those words to him, his blood had run hot. That's where he and his father truly held common ground. Stannis was notorious for being uncomfortable around women while his uncle Renly was notorious for being a wee bit too comfortable with men, especially his former squire, Ser Loras Tyrell.

He had lost his virtue to Myria when he had visited her six moons ago. They had been each other's first, thank the Gods, and through their fumbling, they had learned how to sate one another. _The Dornishman's wife was as fair as the sun..._ Ser Alleras had not been amused when Edward had sung that tune in the Tor.

So when Myria had asked for a tour of Summerhall, despite knowing the place as well as Edward, he had immediately given her a tour of his rooms. And when her riding clothes came off…

"Let's not talk about that," Edward declared and Tyrion nodded hastily in agreement. His mind wandered to great-uncle Kevan again. "What am I to expect from Kevan, uncle? I've only met my great-uncle a few times and I like him well enough but never had the opportunity to pick his brain like I did to your father."

Tyrion seemed to consider the question. "My uncle Kevan is my father's most trusted man. He's a follower, not a leader, but that doesn't make him any less dangerous or smart. He understands his own limitations," Tyrion said. "He's just a household knight in my father's service, but he is one of the richest men in the Westerlands. Listen to his advice, for he is more experienced than you or I are in the matter of ruling, soldiering, and other matters of state."

"I will," and his heart began to swell with sadness because he would _miss_ his uncle. The japing dwarf who had mentored and counseled him well over the last three years. Who had essentially helped mold him into the man he is today. "Thank you, uncle, for everything that you've done for me."

He then gave his uncle an awkward hug, leaning down slightly in order to fully wrap his arms around his favorite Lannister. His uncle returned it with a strength Edward did not know he had and the two separated.

"If I may beg your leave, my lord, I must prepare for my journey to the Wall. _And now my watch begins,"_ Tyrion jested. Edward smiled ruefully as Tyrion departed for his rooms. "And don't even think about _christening_ my room, nephew. I'll know!"

Edward's laugh echoed off every single wall in Westeros. _As soon as my uncle is gone, Myria and I are going to do exactly that._

But then he remembered. The letter from his grandfather. Tywin Lannister, the Warden of the West. Tywin Lannister, the richest man in the Seven Kingdoms. Tywin Lannister, the man who ordered the murders of children and destroyed entire houses, root, and stem.

Tywin Lannister who shat gold.

He looked at the roaring lion of his mother's house, staring at him. _Daring_ him to break the seal and read what was inside. He momentarily played with the notion of never opening the letter and letting it rot, the ink drying inside and shriveling up until all remained were thin black lines where once the words of the most powerful man in Westeros had been written.

But this was his grandfather. His _blood._ He broke the seal and started to read the contents of the letter.

 _Grandson,_

 _It has been three years since I've seen you, ever since your fool of a father packed you up and shipped you into the middle of the Dornish Marches in order to rebuild a half-forgotten castle._

Edward had to smile at that. Tywin Lannister was many things. He didn't like beating around the bush. The grandson continued to read.

 _I'm writing to you because I want to speed up your wedding to Lady Myria Jordayne of the Tor and to invite you to Casterly Rock. I'm growing old and it will soon be that I will soon be rotting in the ground. Your uncle Jaime refuses to come take his place as my heir and your mother is the queen. Tommen and Myrcella will be needed elsewhere to ensure our family stays strong._

Edward noticed he had deliberately omitted his uncle Tyrion. It spoke of the bad relationship between his grandfather and uncle, though he did suspect that Tywin Lannister did have a grudging respect for Tyrion.

 _I aim to name you my carry on the Lannister legacy. I've sent my brother Kevan to finish your education and to escort you to Casterly Rock once you are ready. I will pay for your wedding, whether it is in King's Landing, Oldtown, Casterly Rock, Summerhall, Storm's End…_

 _I want you to carry on my legacy. Our legacy. Get a child with Lady Jordayne. The faster the better._

It was signed in a different hand.

 _Tywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, Shield of Lannisport, and Warden of the West_

Edward was shocked. His grandfather wanted him to have a child already with Myria? But what was more than that, his grandfather wanted _his_ children to carry on the Lannister name. _They wouldn't be true Lannisters._

His mother, his brothers, and sister, they were true Lannisters. Golden hair, emerald eyes, smooth skin. He was the spitting image of his father with coarse black hair and blue eyes that shone with the same color as the sea. Myria had black hair as well, though her irises were hazel. _Our children won't be Lannisters. They'll be Baratheons in all but name._ But his grandfather wanted his legacy to be continued, even if meant uprooting the Lannister looks, it seemed. Edward did not know what to think of that. _He wants me to be a Lannister._

And what of his uncle? His uncle was Tywin's trueborn son and his heir in the eyes of the law. He couldn't do that to his uncle. He knew he couldn't do that. And yet... _if I inherit Casterly Rock, I will be the most powerful man in Westeros._ He would have the influence of the gold mines of the Rock, the power of the Westerlands…

 _Joffrey might be the next king, but I would be even more influential and powerful than he will ever be. The Prince of Summerhall and Lord of Casterly Rock, more powerful than the King of Westeros._ It made him...well giddy. But his mind continued to wander to Tyrion. _He's the rightful heir to Casterly Rock by every law in Westeros. A blood right._ Just like how his uncle Stannis should have gotten Storm's End instead of uncle Renly.

 _I'm the second son._ And yet...being the second son had given so many opportunities that he wouldn't have had if he would be king.

"What is the problem, my love?" the siren's song came once more and he turned to see Myria approach him, her skirts flowing. "You have the look of a man in deep thought."

"My grandfather wrote to me."

"And what did he write about?"

Edward handed her the letter. Her eyes gazed over it. They widened in surprise.

"Family. The future. _My family's future legacy._ "

* * *

 **AN: Thank you, once more, for all the kindness and support. I'm loving this response!**

 **celticank: Thank you once more for your kind words!**

 **JaceMaddox: Kevan Lannister is Tywin's most loyal man. When he needs something done, he'll send his brother do it. Molding his grandson into something more Lannister is exactly a Tywin move. Edward does identify more with his Baratheon side, but as we'll get deeper (and hopefully in this chapter) he'll be getting more and more into an identity crisis of a sort.**

 **spectre4hire: Thank you for your kind words. I'm hoping that my Tyrion plotline does not disappoint and hopefully, this letter is within Tywin's lane. I'm kind of stretching out logic considering that Tommen or Myrcella can _technically_ continue the Lannister name, but whatever. I might rewrite this chapter, but...I still like it. **


	4. BRYCE I

" _ **The Dornish are the greatest and worst subjects in the Seven Kingdoms. They're great when they're loyal to you and fight for you. They'll fight to the death for you. They're horrible when you have to invade them. And our ancestors know what happens when you invade them. So marry them, love them, and they are the greatest friends. Do the opposite and they are your greatest enemies."**_

 **-Attributed to King Daeron the Good**

 **THE LAST CARON**

Lord Bryce Caron sat in his solar, looking at the tapestries that documented his family history. _The eldest of the marcher lords, my father claimed._ For almost eight thousand years the Carons had held Nightsong for Storm's End, from the Storm Kings to the Baratheons against the Reachmen and the Dornish. A thousand times the nightingale of House Caron had been seen in battle, for there was no song as sweet as swords clashing, men dying, horses braying.

His father, Bryen Caron, had fought on the Trident, leading the Caron foot and holding back the forces of the crownlands, capturing two Rosbys and slaying a Rykker. His father used to tell stories about the bloodiness of the battle and he would sit there, before the fire and just _listen._ The halls used to be filled with laughter and love, but now it was filled with nothing but silence.

For ten years he had been Lord of this castle, with no wife, no children, and no siblings. His father, mother, sisters, and only legitimate brother had all fallen to a sickness that had spread throughout Nightsong, striking them down one by one. Only he and his bastard brother, Rolland Storm, had survived, though not without scarring his brother's face.

Now his brother served as his unofficial heir and the sworn shield of the Black Prince. _The only trueborn son of Robert Baratheon to look like Robert Baratheon._ The prince had taken the title of Lord of the Marches from House Caron which would have angered him. It did anger him. The Carons had been Lord of the Marches since the Age of Heroes and now this _boy_ had taken it from him?

That was until the boy had proven to be an able overlord. Renly Baratheon was too often in court, jesting with the small council, before donning his pretty armor and getting knocked over by men better than him at tournies. Edward was well involved with his subjects, visiting castle after castle, listening to the problems of smallfolk and lords alike.

Did it mean he did something about it? Often times, he could not, considering that most of the Back Prince's income went into rebuilding his castle, but at least he _listened._ Bryce could not remember the last time Renly Baratheon had even visited Nightsong, but he could remember the last time the Lord of Storm's End and Lord Paramount of the Stormlands had visited Highgarden. _Damn roses._

"My lord...Lord Fowler and his daughters have arrived," his maester informed him and he ripped his eyes from the tapestries. _One day I will add to them._ The last part of the tapestries had been the sickness, documenting the death of his family. _One day it will be more than death._

Lord Fowler was someone he did not want to see right now. The Fowlers and the Carons did not have a good history together. During the First Dornish War, when Aegon and the might of kingdoms he had conquered descended upon Dorne, Nightsong had been burned in a night raid. _You can still see some of the scorch marks on the wall._

The Dornish were gaining influence in the marches. Edward was betrothed Lady Myria Jordayne, while Lord Beric Dondarrion, another marcher lord, had been promised to Lady Allyria Dayne. Powerful stormlander houses making marriage alliances with powerful Dornish houses. _Starfall, the Tor, Blackhaven, Summerhall, all of them are interconnected._

It reminded Bryce of Daeron the Second, the man who had married a Martell princess and brought Dorne into the Seven Kingdoms. _And sparked a civil war with how much Dornish influence was in his court._ Aegon the Unworthy, of course, had a hand to play in the First Blackfyre Rebellion, but Daeron had a hand in how it spreaded across Westeros.

Summerhall was the symbol of Dorne and the rest of Westeros reuniting. _And it is a symbol of the Iron Throne trying to tie Dorne closer when it sent Edward there and arranged his marriage to one of the most powerful houses in Dorne._

Lord Fowler was a tall man, with greying brown hair, and a mismatched pair of blue and green eyes. He was called the Old Hawk for a reason, his eyes watching Bryce with a mistrust that was honed by thousands of years of warring and death. _Your ancestor burnt my castle,_ Bryce accused in his mind. _Yes he did,_ the Old Hawk mocked back.

His daughters were pretty, though each were identifiable through their own pairs of eyes. Jeyne Fowler, he learned, had blue eyes that were deep shining pools of beauty. Jennelyn wore her green eyes with pride, looking more like forests than emeralds, and those eyes were filled with the same mistrust Lord Franklyn Fowler gave him.

"Lord Franklyn, Lady Jeyne, and Lady Jennelyn, welcome to Nightsong," he greeted. "I would offer you a place to sit, but my solar only has one chair."

"It's fine," Franklyn Fowler said, though his daughters frowned. "We're not here to discuss trifle matters. So let us get down to business."

"Trade if I recall right. You want increased trading rights into my domain," Bryce remembered. "Why? Carons and Fowlers have never been close, so why now?"

"King Robert has been trying to get Dorne into closer with the Iron Throne," Lord Fowler reminded Bryce. "He's betrothed Lady Myria Jordayne to his second son, Lord Beric Dondarrion is betrothed to Lady Allyria Dayne, and they represent two powerful houses in the marches. Our families have never been close, but maybe it is time to change that."

 _Time to change?_ "What do you mean, Lord Franklyn?"

A glint appeared in Franklyn's eyes. And his daughters shifted uncomfortably. "A betrothal between my eldest daughter, Jeyne, and yourself. My ancestor burnt your castle and our respective houses have warred against each other since the dawn of the Age of Heroes. The Dornish Marches must be united in blood and marriage."

Bryce raised an eyebrow. _I knew it. "_ United in blood and marriage? The Dornish and the storm lords have been enemies for as long as we can remember. My father fought against the Dornish at the Trident. One of my ancestors probably fought against one of yours in the Blackfyre Rebellions. Why should I marry my ancestral enemy?"

"Are you afraid?" Lady Jennelyn bristled, anger coming into her voice. "Are you afraid of marrying me?"

"I would be afraid of marrying you if you were Lady Jeyne," Bryce said, noting the shock coming from her eyes. "But no, I'm not afraid. I'm just asking why I should tie my house to yours with the thousands of years of war and hate between us."

Jeyne Fowler smirked. He had heard things about this woman. She was close with Nymeria Sand, one of Prince Oberyn's many daughters, and was rumored to have lost her virtue to the same man who had took her sister's. She was the heir to Skyhaven and the Old Hawk's progeny. He would have to step lightly.

"You're an observant one, Lord Bryce," Jeyne Fowler said, her eyes twinkling. "Still, I don't think you deserve the honor of marrying me."

"The honor my lady?" Bryce asked, eyebrow raised. "Why should I be honored to marry a woman who has already lost her virtue?"

Lord Franklyn's eyes darkened though he held his tongue. Lady Jeyne didn't do anything but smile, but that made her even more dangerous. "Why should I marry a man who's already lost his virtue?"

 _She's a tricky one._ "There is no honor, I suppose, in marrying me. After all, I am the last of my house, I have a bastard brother who serves as the sworn shield of the Black Prince when that honor should be for a knight of the Kingsguard. I did lose my virtue, to a servant girl five years ago. She was pretty, black hair, blue eyes. Might have been one of King Robert's bastards for all I know, but we were off a similar age, so I doubt it. It was the day that my parents, siblings, and cousins had all died. I was piss-drunk off of Arbor Gold, while my brother was running the castle."

Bryce then got up. _Marrying a Dornish woman? What has the world come to?_ But he could see the merits. Marriage alliances with Dorne would bring it closer into the Iron Throne's grasp, while also serving as a backup of a sorts against the Reach. _The Reach, the Stormlands, and Dorne have no love for each other, but nobody likes the Reachmen. Especially after they defeated Robert at Ashford and starved Lord Stannis and Lord Renly at Storm's End for an entire year._

 _My father would disapprove. But then again, he disapproved of me knighting Rolland. But he's dead now, isn't he?_ Dead fathers always had that ability to make you think.

"She brought me to my rooms as I was yammering on about one of my siblings -I believe it was my legitimate brother- when I kissed her," Bryce said. _I was drunk._ "I was not myself. But then she threw herself at me and I lost my virtue, if the word pleases my lady Jeyne, and she ended up pregnant with another Storm."

He looked towards the tapestries, where his ancestor had taken back Nightsong from the Fowlers. "She died in childbirth, bringing in a stillborn daughter. My fault, I told myself, and I ended up almost drinking myself into an early grave. The only reason I stopped was because of intervention."

"Divine intervention?" Jeyne asked mockingly.

"A king's intervention, one can say. Though the boy isn't a king. Edward helped me, though to be fair, it was Rolland who reminded me of my lordly duty to my people and my lands before he departed. Nightsong have need of a lord who takes care of its people and I was not fulfilling that."

"A dutiful man," Jeyne dryly observed.

"Aye. And I have a duty to my house to marry and carry on my line," Bryce said. "I'll marry your daughter, Lord Fowler, if she would be so _honored_ to marry me."

"So honored?" Jeyne rolled her eyes. "I would say no, but you're a handsome man. Nymeria would like you."

 _Oh by the Seven._ Bryce internally shuddered. What had he gotten himself into?

* * *

 **AN: A shorter chapter and the worst. Will probably come back and redo this one, but I needed to put this one out before the school year starts.**

 **celticcank: Thank you for your kind words.**

 **spectre4hire: That's going to be addressed soon, but next chapter is going to be from a perspective I've never thought I would be doing. Thank you for your kind words!**

 **Michael: Usually I have a no response policy when it comes to guest reviews, but thank you! As I've said in previous chapters, I've wanted to bring a different take on this trope. Hopefully I will do it justice.**


	5. EDDARD I

" _ **Blacker than night was the heart of Maelys the Monstrous. The man who ate his twin in the womb, absorbing everything but his head, and killed his cousin Daemon, cursing him as a kinslayer. Barristan the Bold killed him and so died the male line of the Blackfyres."**_

 **-Excerpt from** _ **The Blackfyres: Aegon IV's Greatest Mistake**_

 **THE LORD OF WINTERFELL**

"My son is getting married soon," Robert told him. _Edward, the black haired one and the one Robert loved most, it seemed._ "A Dornish wench from House Jordayne. Jon Arryn was the one who arranged it, you know. _It will bring us closer to Dorne,_ he said. The same man who put Cersei Lannister in my bedchamber put a mad Dornish woman in my son's. Yet he seems happy."

Ned Stark had not been in Dorne for almost two decades. _Promise me, Ned, promise me._ Ever since he had torn down the Tower of Joy and brought back his sister's bones to rest beneath Winterfell. _To be buried next to Brandon and father, as she wanted._

"How long as it been since you seen the lad?" Ned asked. The two were out near Winterfell, waiting to start the hunt. But Robert had wanted to catch up and out of earshot from Cersei and her brother. Tyrion Lannister had stopped briefly for one night before heading north with twenty men at his back. Jon Snow, Ned's bastard son, and Benjen, Ned's younger brother, would be departing within a sennight. To the Wall.

 _I don't want him to go, but Cat wants him gone and he wants to do something with his life._

"Three years Ned. Three years since I've seen my boy," Robert sighed. "Ever since that damn thing with Joffrey and Jon Arryn and Cersei banded together to beseech me to send him away. To Summerhall, that damn place where Rhaegar used to sing his sad songs. Raised by _Lannisters_ like all my children. Tyrion, though the man is a lot smarter than his siblings, and now Kevan Lannister, Tywin's younger brother."

Ned remembered Kevan Lannister during the Sack of King's Landing. The man was an able commander, smart, and dutiful. But he was too subservient to Tywin Lannister. And Tywin had built Robert's reign on the bodies of murdered children.

"Why haven't you visited him?" Ned asked and Robert sighed again.

"The damn wife of mine. _He needs to learn his lesson,_ she says. _It's too early,_ she says. At least Varys sent the boy his bastard brother and Ser Cortnay Penrose so he's not surrounded by lions. And his standard pisses Cersei off, so there's that," Robert then gave a wild laugh. "When he sent the Small Council his standard, Cersei yelled at me. _Me! You poisoned his mind,_ she accused me, even though I don't write to the boy, don't talk to him, _nothing!_ She needs to blame Stannis. He was fostered there for almost five years."

Ned nodded, though he still wondered where Stannis was. The man was brooding on Dragonstone, Robert had told him, following the death of Jon Arryn. _He should be here or in the capital, but he's not._

They had talked about Daenerys Targaryen before and they would not speak of her again. She was wedded and most likely bedded. _She's of an age with Joffrey, a few years older than Sansa._

"At least he's forging his own path," Ned decided to say. "An independent lad, it seems."

"Independent. He's the lucky one. He doesn't have to deal with Cersei, the Small Council, the shittiness of King's Landing. I miss the Vale, the snow, the fresh air. Instead I get stink and shit," Robert muttered. "The Kingswood is a nice place to hunt, but nothing like here. Gods, I miss the days when I could fight all day and fuck all night. I was strong back then."

"And now you're fat," Eddard pointed out and Robert groaned. "Maybe you shouldn't be eating and drinking as much as you do and put yourself in the training yard."

"Watch yourself, Ned," Robert said half-threateningly. "You may be the Hand, but you're speaking to the king. But you're right. I am fat."

"Your sons aren't fat at least. Joffrey fights well, though I've heard he's more accustomed to a crossbow than a sword. And Tommen swings his sword well for a seven year old," Ned lied through his teeth, not wanting to give Robert even more grief. "And I've heard stories about your son, Edward. A solid swordsman, a capable rider, and a good lord."

"Don't lie to me about Joffrey and Tommen, Ned, it's beneath you. But Gods, Edward...he reminds me of both myself and Stannis, the Gods be good. He's too headstrong for his own good and he was raised by Tyrion Lannister and Stannis, but he's a decent Lord of the Marches if there ever was one," Robert praised his son. "Had Lord Bryce Caron rage at me for three years when I made Edward Lord of the Marches. Then he stopped complaining when Edward visited him."

"He sounds like a good man," Ned said. _I wished he was the first born._ Edward was by no means a special man, just a capable one, but seeing that Joffrey...was a bit off, he wondered... _But alas, the boy is going to get married to a Dornish woman._ He reminded himself of Ashara and her haunting violet eyes…

 _And she threw herself from the tower following her brother's death and her stillborn child._

"He's a good lad. I plan on inviting him back to the capital for his sixteenth nameday, which is in a few moons," Robert revealed. "He'll be wedded and bedded by that time, though I've heard that he's bedded that Dornish wench a few times already. Tywin is going to finance his marriage but I don't know where the lad is going to get married. Heard that Jordayne likes Oldtown for some reason, so he might get married at the Starry Sept. _HAR!_ Wouldn't that be a sight, a Dornish girl and a Stormlands boy getting married in the Reach!"

Robert then took a bite out of an apple while Ned watched the riders around him. Ser Jaime and the queen were not present and there were only a few Baratheon men, lead by the Kingsguard knight Ser Arys Oakheart. There were Lannister men everywhere though, the red seeping in the white snow.

"Does Edward have a member of the Kingsguard with him?" Ned asked. "I've heard his sworn shield is a bastard from the Stormlands."

"No, he doesn't. I've wanted to send his uncle Jaime to the damn place, but again, Cersei _insists._ However, what she doesn't know is that I'm planning on sending Myrcella to Summerhall to visit her brother after we're done here," Robert smiled broadly. "I may be a terrible father, but even I know she misses him greatly."

 _A good plan._ Myrcella was a sweet girl and he wouldn't have minded betrothing her to Bran, as the two were of an age.

"And I'm planning on fostering Tommen with Renly," Robert said, draining his goblet of wine. "I made a mistake with Joffrey by not sending him away to live away from his mother. I should have been more involved. I won't make the same mistake with my youngest."

Ned didn't know if that was a good plan. Renly was the Lord of Storm's End the Master of Laws, but he had heard rumors about him and Ser Loras. _Too entrenched with the flowers._

"Why not send him to Stannis or Tywin?" Ned pondered and Robert groaned again.

"Tommen's a sweet lad. Sending him away to Tywin or Stannis will change him too much and I can't do that to my youngest son," Robert explained. "Edward's too headstrong to be changed even by Stannis and Joffrey...well the Gods know what Cersei what would have done if I had sent Joffrey away. Renly might be too soft but the man has a good head on his shoulders and he should do his nephew some good."

Robert wiped some of the wine dribbling down his beard with his elbow. "Enough talk about sons and fostering! Let's go hunt!"

Eddard nodded his agreement. The two would go hunting...but come back to terrible news.

Brandon Stark had fallen from the Broken Tower.

* * *

 **AN: A shorter chapter again. Haven't had much time to write so this will have to do. Thank you for all the support you guys have given this story!**


	6. KEVAN I

" _ **Kevan Lannister...never underestimate a second son, Your Grace. He has been Tywin Lannister's right-hand man for decades. Tywin was the hammer, Kevan the anvil."**_

 **-Jorah Mormont to Viserys Targaryen**

 **THE LESSER LION**

Kevan Lannister hated Summerhall.

He had been in worse places before. The campaign against the Blackfyres where he had won his knighthood alongside Tywin, the marches against the robber knights and bandit outlaws that had plagued the Westerlands during their father's rule. The fight against the Reynes and the Tarbecks, where he had received a nasty wound during the battle of Tarbeck Hall, something that still haunted him.

 _I will never forget those screams,_ he thought as Castamere crossed his mind. His brother was ruthless, but it had all been necessary to restore the Lannister name. Even it had meant wiping two ancient houses off the face of Westeros.

Summerhall was was hot as Dorne, wet as the Stormlands and as miserable as both. He had never liked either place and longed for the comforts of Casterly Rock. But his brother had commanded him to finish Edward's education. To make him and his children worthy of Casterly Rock.

 _Why wouldn't he just hand over Casterly Rock to me and my children?_ It was a thought that had crossed his mind before. His children were full Lannisters; Lancel was squire to the king, his twin sons Martyn and Willem were with him and he had a newborn daughter, Janei. Plenty of blood, _Lannister blood,_ to continue their dominion over the Westerlands.

Edward was a good man and would be a fine lord. But there was just something that rubbed him the wrong way of giving Casterly Rock and the Westerlands to someone who didn't even have the traditional Lannister looks. He knew he was being hypocritical. Tommen and Myrcella

He understood that Tywin would never give the Rock to Tyrion. There was too much bad blood between them, too much animosity. Tyrion had killed Joanna with his birth and Tywin had never smiled again. _He refused to speak to Genna for a year after she suggested that Tyrion was most like Tywin._ A shame really, because Tyrion _was_ a bright man. _If he had been born taller or even had not killed Joanna, he might have inherited…_

"Great-uncle?" Kevan looked from the papers in his desk to see Edward, the black haired prince. While Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella had the golden hair of their mother, Edward was a younger version of Robert in both build and look. It was strange to him, but the Gods were fickle.

"I was just looking at the matters of your wedding with Lady Jordayne. She seems dead set on Oldtown, despite the historical tensions between the Dornish and the Reachmen," Kevan said, exasperated. "That woman wants to get married in the Starry Sept. ' _The Lannisters are paying for my wedding, it might as well be the grandest marriage in the entire kingdom.'_ You do realize that your grandfather doesn't shit gold, correct?"

Edward chuckled. "Myria's family will pay for a part of it. I've already discussed it with her. And Uncle Renly has offered to pay for a part of it as well."

Kevan was surprised at that. "The crown. What of your father?"

Edward's face darkened. "My father is borrowing from grandfather. Even if the crown did offer to finance the wedding, House Lannister would still be paying for it fully."

 _The boy is sharp._ He had to thank Tyrion and Stannis for that. Edward was still a bit careless when it came to running his own lands, leaving Kevan and Ser Cortnay to handle the bulk of it, but he wasn't mindless nor ignorant of his duties. _Unlike his father._

"You're right," Kevan admitted. "It seems that House Lannister will be paying over half, but it won't be as expensive as I thought it would be."

"Great-uncle, I am not my father. He is a great warrior but not a very attentive king," Edward said. "I have no doubt that I have inherited some of his tendencies to ignore the ruling part of running a kingdom, but uncle Stannis has taught me well. So has uncle Tyrion."

"Good," Kevan replied. "What are your plans for tomorrow?"

"A ride with my betrothed through the villages, going to see the blacksmith for repairs to my armor and writing letters to the Lords of the Marches inviting them to the wedding," Edward spouted. Then the boy groaned. "Do I have to write by hand? Why can't the maester do it himself? Or you, for that matter?"

Kevan sighed. "I am not your scribe nor your maester, great-nephew. It speaks well of you that you would take the time and effort from _other_ activities to write to these lords," Kevan said, having taken Tyrion's old chambers and had not been prepared for the nightly sounds that emitted from Edward's rooms. "You _will_ write to these lords, no matter how bad your handwriting is."

Edward's face was sullen, reminding the aging knight that his great-nephew was still young. Kevan sighed again and Edward was defeated.

"Aye, great-uncle, I'll write to them," Edward conceded, though not without making it seem as if Kevan was expecting him to execute someone. "We'll send out ravens within a sennight."

Kevan smiled and slapped Edward on the shoulder. "Good. Now, we'll have to go over-"

That was interrupted when one of the Lannister men at arms that Kevan had brought with him. Most of the other Lannister guardsmen had departed with Tyrion just before Kevan had arrived, no doubt a move orchestrated by Edward in order to not increase the Lannister presence in the Stormlands.

"My lords! My lords! The village...the village was attacked!" the men at arms was panting, his voice hoarse. "Bandits...at least two dozen. Killed and kidnapped half the villagers!"

"WHAT?" Edward roared. "What happened? Tell us man!"

Kevan inserted himself between Edward and the men at arms, who was still breathing hard.

"Give him some room Edward," Kevan advised and Edward stepped back, allowing the man some room to breathe. "Tell us, what in Seven Hells happened."

"Your Grace, the village was attacked. At least three dozen men, most of them mounted. Killed the village headman, kidnapped most of the women and stole most of their crops," the man at arms explained, still breathing erratically. "The survivors said they headed north."

Edward began to curse loudly. Ser Kevan turned to the man at arms. "Go get something to eat and drink. Send word to Ser Rolland and Ser Penrose that we need their presence."

The man at arms bowed and left in a hurry, leaving the old knight with his charge. "Damnit! Damnit, damnit, damnit. I _fucking_ knew that something would happen," Edward started to shout, though mostly at himself. "I fucking knew it and I should have seen it. What the fuck is wrong with me! I'm going to kill those men and I'm going hang their bodies from the fucking battlements when I get my hands on them, string them along for all the Stormlands to see!"

Kevan sighed. Edward's bloodlust was getting the better of him. _This is what lead to the Joffrey incident._ He remembered that well and the shame it had brought upon his family for failing to prevent it.

"Calm yourself lad," he counseled but Edward was heading towards Kevan's desk.

"Calm myself? My village was attacked _right under my nose._ I will not calm myself when those murdering bastards are out there!" Edward thundered, before slamming his fist onto Kevan's desk.

Kevan had enough. " _ENOUGH!"_

Edward reacted to that.

"I understand that you want vengeance, but shouting and cursing will not solve anything here," Kevan reminded his great-nephew. "You need a clear mind. Angry men are stupid men and you are acting like one!"

Edward huffed but Kevan knew he had him.

"Good. It's okay to be angry, but not when it clouds your mind. We need time to think, to organize a response, and hunt down these vermin," Kevan said. "Ser Rolland and Ser Penrose should be here soon."

As soon as he said that, the two weathered veteran knights entered the room. Both of them had sweat on their faces and grim looks.

"You called my lord?" Ser Rolland said in his usual gruff voice. Penrose removed his helm and placed it under his arm. _Loyal men to Edward. Good men to have._ They were Stormlanders, loyal to the Baratheons only, but they were strong in their devotion to their lord.

"Yes. I presume you have heard the news?" and the two knights nodded. "Then we need to ride to the village and figure out what happened and how many of these murderers are there. If they're able to kidnap most of the women, it means they have numbers or a silver tongue."

"How many men shall we take from the garrison?" Ser Rolland asked. Edward was silent as he listened to the three men talk about how to respond. _Good. Learn._

"Two dozen. All mounted. Ser Cortnay will stay here with the rest of the garrison and remain on watch," Kevan decided. "Ser Rolland, pick your best riders. Ser Cortnay, inform Ser Richard."

"Aye, my lord," Ser Rolland responded and bowed. So did Ser Cortnay. Edward was still silent. Kevan didn't know what was going through the young man's head, but he had stayed quiet when Kevan had been doling out orders.

"What are you thinking about?" Kevan asked, curious.

"These men...they attacked the village knowing that it was a royal fief. They know Summerhall is under construction, they know that we will ride out with a response. They want something. I do not know what it is, but they're goading us," Edward observed. "I can...feel it, great-uncle. We must ride carefully."

Kevan smiled.

"Good. Always trust that feeling, Edward. It will save your life. Your grandfather's instinct saved our lives many times," Kevan patted his young charge on the back. "Get your arms and armor. It's time to ride out."

* * *

 **Hello! Here's the newest chapter. Sorry for the delays, school and stuff is getting to me. Don't expect another chapter out of me for a while, however, as finals are coming up and I'm working a lot, but don't worry, this story is not abandoned.**

 **-DeathBladeVI**


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